The sun had just set and the streets had gone quiet. The bright glow from the windows of my neighbors houses that stabbed out into the darkness went out, causing me to realize that I had been waiting over three hours for my mom to come home.
She must be out on another one of her late nights, I thought.
I knew that tonight was going to be a long one for her considering today marked my dad’s 3rd month anniversary of skipping town and leaving us to fend for ourselves. Not that I cared. He was selfish. He did whatever he needed to for himself and didn’t care about what rules or people he had to break in the process. I felt terrible for my mom though. She was so naive to how the real world worked that when my dad left her, she broke down. The bright smiled benevolent person I had grown to love was destroyed in a matter of seconds. The whole first month after he left consisted of her sitting in her room taking anti-depressant pills and refusing to get out of bed to go to work. I was forced to start working 8 hour shifts after school in order to pay for our bills. She’s starting to get better now though. If I wake her up at 6:45 A.M., right before I leave for school, I can usually make sure she gets changed and is ready to go for work. The only time she misses now is when she is having one of her really sad days. I don’t really know where she goes on these days. All I know is that she always comes home around 3 A.M. plastered and in tears. I knew that tonight was going to be one of those nights. It would consist of me calming her down, walking her to her room, and tucking her into bed. I walked around my house looking for some leftovers to eat; I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day aside from bits of a rotten banana I had found lying around.
I opened up the cabinet. Empty.
The refrigerator. Empty. 
Great, no food in the house.
I sighed and went over to the desk that was covered in scattered papers and garbage, digging beneath it all for the money jar.
Am I surprised that there’s no food? No.
Would it have been nice if just once she would make me a delicious home cooked meal, perhaps a warm chicken dinner, or even just bring me back some fries from Mcdonalds? Yes.
I tipped the jar over and 3 quarters spilled out into my hand. I stood in disbelief.
You’ve got to be kidding!
Do we seriously have no money now too?
I sat on the couch with my arms crossed and shoulders hunched forward shaking my head.
Why can’t I have regular, responsible parents? I’m just asking for a meal. My goodness!
I could feel my stomach growling, the ever-growing emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get food, I had no choice.
I grabbed my washed out black coat with the pockets ripped and rushed out the door, trying not to think about what I was going to do. I walked across the street to the local gas station and pulled my hood up.  With a deep breath, I reached for the door and pulled it open with shaking hands. I kept my head down, afraid to make eye contact with anyone, afraid that they would catch on to what I was up to. I glanced around and saw that the store was empty, aside from the cashier, allowing me to sigh ever so slightly in relief. I quickly made my way over to the 8 hour old food that had been sitting out under the tiny heated lights. I glanced around and quickly reached out my hand and grabbed the tinfoil which contained a gross, soggy hot dog. This’ll do, I said to myself. I stuffed it into the front of my sweatshirt and made my way over to the other aisles. Just one bag of chips and I’ll be on my way, I thought. Quick and easy.
I instantly snatched the bag of chips and shoved them into my pants. In an effort to hide the crunching of the packaging, I started to whistle. I could feel the sweat begin to drip down my face. Every step I took, the bag would make a roaring noise. There was no way that the cashier couldn’t hear it.
I quickly started to exit the building when I heard a voice of a man behind me.
“Um sir... Can you please come over here.”
My heart started pounding as I turned to see that it was, indeed, the washed up 40 year old cashier talking to me. His name was Greg, I had seen him here ever since I was a kid. My family would always be running in and out of the gas station since it was so close to my house, but I never really talked to him. All I knew was that he never looked happy. Out of the 17 years that I walked in and out of that station, not once did I see him smile. You could instantly smell the whisky every time you got within a few feet of him and you could tell he had given up on his life. Shockingly, there was rumors that he was a genius as a teenager. However, rumor had it money problems began consuming his house and he became a high school dropout in order to  get the $7.50 per hour job here to support his family. Apparently, he never was able to amount to anything after he made this decision because for the 25 years he had been working, he had nothing to show for it.
My mind started racing with thoughts. I knew that he had noticed what I was doing, but I didn’t know what to do now. I was convinced he was going to call the cops on me and destroy my education. Clearly he did not know the value of college if this was what he did with his life.
I couldn’t get caught.
I couldn’t get in trouble.
I couldn’t end up like him. 
I refused to be a washed up 40 year old who had potential but became nothing.
I had too much on the line. One more year left of high school and then I had a full scholarship to our local college waiting for me. I was going to be better than my parents, I was going to be something. Getting caught for stealing would destroy all of that.
So I did the only thing I could.
I sprinted. 
I aggressively pushed the door open and sprinted down the street. While catching my breath, I stopped in someone’s front lawn and hid behind their trees. I was still close enough that it allowed me to have a clear view of the gas station. I decided I couldn’t run all the way home just yet. I needed to see how Greg was reacting to the situation. I needed to know if he was calling the cops. If he was going to put me into jail. If he was going to end my life.
He was looking out the window, searching to see if I was anywhere in sight. After a few minutes past, he went back behind the cash register and sat down. He didn’t pick up the phone to call anyone, he just continued with his night. Bewildered by his actions, I sat for a few more minutes out of paranoia. I was certain that any minute now, I was going to hear sirens running up the street and a police officer was going to arrest me. There was no way he was just going to let me go.
But nobody came.
Maybe he didn’t see me?
I began to unwrap the tinfoil and eat my hotdog. I had made it, I didn’t get caught.
After finishing my soggy meal, I sat still hunched behind the tree. Something didn’t feel right. I had just stolen. No matter the reason I was just as bad as the rest of them. How could I be better than my parents when I was doing the same thing as my father? I was disgusted with myself and the fact that my stomach was now full. I no longer was angry or cared about the fact that I lived in a house where the cabinets and fridge were empty, because now I was empty too.
Suddenly, there was movement. My eyes squinted as I tried to see exactly what Greg was doing.
Wait, is that him pulling out his wallet? What in the world is he doing?
My jaw dropped as I realized what he was doing. He was paying for the food I stole. This person, who I had seen as a worthless man, was protecting me. He was allowing me to get the chance to become successful, the opportunity that was stolen from him.
Slowly, I began to get up. I walked the next block back to my house slowly. It was 2:45 A.M. and  my mom was going to be home any minute. As I predicted, within a few minutes she came stumbling into the house. I went about my night as usual. I calmed her down and got her into bed, only to get up early to send her off to work tomorrow. But something was different. I needed to know why Greg saved me. I needed to know why he didn’t turn me in.
The next morning, after I sent my mom off to work, I began to pace back and forth in my living room. I knew what I had to do, but nerves were consuming my body. I needed to go thank Greg, no matter how scared I was to confront him.
Before I could change my mind, I marched out my front door and walked across the street over the gas station. I could see him standing at the register. It was just another day for him. I walked in and he turned to see who was at the door. A puzzled look with concern appeared across his face as he recognized who I was.
“Um.. hi. I just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. I have a really good scholarship for college next year and I know you could have turned me in if you wanted. I was just really hungry and I know that that’s not an excuse, but I...I just really needed to come and thank you.”
He sat there and stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Silence had flooded the room and I sat there fiddling with my hands. I was waiting for him to say something, anything back.
“When you looked back at me before you ran, I saw something in your eyes. A look of desperation. A look that reminded me a lot of myself when I was your age.”
“Oh... um really?”, I replied back, unsure as to where he was going with his comment.
“I had a scholarship waiting for myself too you know. But, life got in the way. Now, I am an old drunk who works at a gas station. Don’t make the same mistakes I did son. I’m giving you this chance and don’t you dare waste it. You are going to make something of yourself, at least one of us deserves the chance to.”
A sat there and nodded to him. I understood. He was giving me what he wished someone would have given him. He was giving me the opportunity to get out of the endless cycle of misery and depression.  I was going to graduate from college, make good money, and live a great life. I wasn’t just going to do it for me, but I was going to do it for Greg too. He gave me what everyone in this world prays for. He gave me a sign of hope.